This is your invitation to share a time when a hymn had special meaning for you.

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Mother was always busy on Saturdays getting her Sunday School opening service ready. This occurred about the first 20 minutes on Sunday Morning for the whole congregation but especially the children. Afterward, everyone would proceed to their individual classes. She would be highly focused, making posters with art pens and paints or something else to help illustrate the point she wanted to make.

One time she discovered a woman in the church who whistled beautifully and could make lovely bird calls. A plan developed. Next Sunday a soloist would sing the song “His Eye is On the Sparrow,” and the whistler would add beautiful bird sounds above her singing voice. The whistler would be at a microphone back behind the platform out of sight. A ‘sparrow’ created by Mother would be brought in to sit beside the soloist and appear to be the one whistling.

When the time came, Mother explained to the congregation that the sparrow itself was going to be heard from this morning at church. While the soloist would sing, the sparrow would be accompanying her.

Mother covered me in a costume of crepe paper and dressed me up as a sparrow with wings and a bill and everything. I could see out where they cut holes for my eyes. I was perched on a little dolly. Someone pulled me out across the platform beside the soloist. When the whistling behind stage began, I moved my head as if the sparrow itself was doing the whistling.

The children were spellbound. The adults already knew the words to that song and were were smiling at this unusual demonstration. But they were also very moved at this beautiful musical reminder that, yes, our God is the one who sees us and knows us intimately. . . and loves us more than we can really comprehend, and we can rest assured he will take care of us at all times.

People outside of our area noted Mother’s opening services on Sunday mornings, because some years later, she was asked to repeat the sparrow event for the national Sunday School Convention in Springfield, Missouri. Again I was dressed up as the sparrow, and again people responded, as they were reassured that we have a God who sees us, loves us, and watches over us.

A Hymn to Help

This song has helped so many people so many times. It has been sung by the famous Ethel Waters and George Beverly Shea. No doubt it has been hummed in many homes and remembered tearfully through many struggles. It has backing in the scriptures and is stated so beautifully in Matthew 10 and Matthew 6.

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

When I saw her shoes, I sure wanted some just like hers with the white straps coming up around the ankles. When we managed to find a pair of shoes as much like hers as possible, Mother went along with it and got them for me. Virginia had a refined sense of humor. Very funny. She used words that fired the imagination and the funny bone like when we were in a tiny town in Nebraska and couldn’t find the family reunion. “We come all the way from Oregon, and now here we are ‘hurtling’ up and down Main Street trying to find it,” was the way she described it.

After I grew up, we would go by Portland any time we were close and would visit with her and Uncle Warren. First we would peruse her exquisite antique shop attached to the house. Her taste and knowledge was notable. Uncle would work on the antiques in the room at the back of the elongated shop. He could be a bit gruff with the customers–kind of the John Wayne type only much more handsome. Therefore, Aunt Virginia stated that he is President of the Back Room and she is President of the Front.

One day when I was there with her, I saw a darling curved leg writing desk in the shop. They were getting older, I mused. How much longer would they have the shop? Maybe I should buy a piece that Warren had worked on and Virginia had selected herself. It would be memorable for me. So, now as I write, I can look at the small desk and still love it as much as when I first saw it as I think of her.

It had always concerned me down through the years that Virginia didn’t declare that she knew the Lord. They didn’t attend church, didn’t speak about the Christian life. I knew she idolized her older brother, Elmond, a dedicated minister and servant of Jesus. She was raised by an alcoholic father, who at age 50 had a miraculous turnaround when he accepted Jesus and served as a minister until in his 80’s. That was my Granddad Clark.

When our families would get together, we would always sing around the piano, and I noticed in those later years it became a habit that Aunt Virginia would request us to sing two songs. The Wonder of It All, sung so well by George Beverly Shea, and I Believe in Miracles. Cousin Loren had sung both of them many times in the past as solos. So we would always sing those for her. Now that I am writing this, I notice that the theme of both of them is the saving grace of Jesus. This speaks to me even now.

When I heard that she was diagnosed with a life threatening illness, I hated it. I didn’t want to face it, so I waited months without contacting her. Then one day I knew I must call her and tell her how much she had meant to me. I explained that why I didn’t call sooner was that I didn’t want to confront the fact that her life was threatened. It was a good conversation.

After the two of them moved into assisted living, I flew out once again to Portland. What a happy surprise when it turned out to be a mini-reunion with a little group of us cousins coming together to see her. Very shortly after I got there, Aunt Virginia asked me something about being ready to go…regarding her last journey. We had a short conversation. Did she ask God for forgiveness for the wrongs she had committed in her life? “Oh hundreds of times!” she responded. Then I assured her that was all she needed to do. It is so comforting to me now that we talked about this.

We had a wonderful time all of us together. We had to go down to the large reception area by the piano and have our group sing. Other residents gathered around and began to request hymns or other songs they would like to sing. One more time we sang Aunt Virginia’s favorites for her.

Hymns That Help

The Wonder of It All

There’s the wonder of sunset at evening,
The wonder as sunrise I see;
But the wonder of wonders that thrills my soul
Is the wonder that God loves me.

Refrain
O, the wonder of it all! The wonder of it all!
Just to think that God loves me.
O, the wonder of it all! The wonder of it all!
Just to think that God loves me.

There’s the wonder of springtime and harvest,
The sky, the stars, the sun;
But the wonder of wonders that thrills my soul
Is a wonder that’s only begun.

I Believe in Miracles

Creation shows the power of God
There’s glory all around
And those who see Him stand in awe
For miracles abound

Refrain
I believe in miracles
I’ve seen a soul set free
Miraculous the change in one
Redeemed through Calvary
I’ve seen the lily push its way
Up through the stubborn sod
I believe in miracles
For I believe in God.

I cannot doubt the work of God
It’s plain for all to see
The miracles that He has wrought
Should lead to Calvary

The love of God, oh power divine
‘Tis wonderful to see
The miracle of grace performed
Within the heart of me

At the funeral, we sang them again. . . for her and for ourselves, as we celebrated Aunt Virginia’s life. I am reassured that Aunt Virginia made her last journey well, and we will see her again in our heavenly home.

During hymn singing at church, I can still hear her voice. She participated wholeheartedly, not especially loud though, and sometimes her hand would move up and down in rhythm to the music and she might bounce a little up and down. I can’t say her style was “Cool.” No it was unpolished, unpretentious, unselfconscious,…..and sincere…real worship to her Lord and Savior. Her singing is now a lovely memory for me.

She almost always had an apron on at home. And she would sing and hum while she was working. These songs undoubtedly strengthened her. You see, she had been a widow with 7 children to raise alone and ran a restaurant in a tiny crossroads of a town in order to make enough to get by.

A Hymn to Help

Now as a grandmother myself, I can remember Grandma’s favorite hymn. As I peruse the words and put myself into her mind, I can see why she loved it. Contained in it was a lesson for all of us, her children, grandchildren and everyone else. ‘Ere you left your room this morning, Did you think to pray? In the name of Christ our Savior, Did you sue for loving favor, As a shield today?

O how praying rests the weary!
Prayer will change the night to day
So when life seems dark and dreary
Don’t forget to pray.

When you met with great temptation
Did you think to pray?
By His dying love and merit
Did you claim the Holy Spirit
As your guide and stay?

O how praying rests the weary!
Prayer will change the night to day
So when life seems dark and dreary
Don’t forget to pray.

When your heart was filled with anger
Did you think to pray?
Did you plead for grace, my brother
That you might forgive another
Who had crossed your way?

O how praying rests the weary!
Prayer will change the night to day
So when life seems dark and dreary
Don’t forget to pray.

When sore trials came upon you
Did you think to pray?
When your soul was bowed in sorrow
Balm of Gilead did you borrow
At the gates of day?

O how praying rests the weary!
Prayer will change the night to day
So when life seems dark and dreary
Don’t forget to pray.